The Doom of Moria
by Jack0fHearts87
Summary: The dwarves delved too greedily and too deep," So said Saruman of Many Colors. But this was but a glimpse at the horrors that befell the ancient mine long ago.
1. What Mithril Hides

Moria. To most, the sunless halls were a danger, to be traveled only in times of great need. To Norik, son of Migli, the numerous caverns and tunnels were home.

Norik was a miner of Mithril, a wondrous silver metal that was believed by some to be a gift from Mahal himself. The stocky dwarf patted a wall, a thin silver sliver of the priceless metal running through its heart.

_Ah,_ he though in satisfaction, _Mahal be praised. _Gimfil would be pleased as well. The mining supervisor had sent several dwarves further into the depths of Moria, searching for Mithril.

And Norik had found it.

The Dwarf hefted his pickaxe, swinging at the rock with a grunt. A satisfying _'thunk!' _resounded through the small cavern as the pickaxe dug into the stone. A rumble shook the dwarf, as well as several small pebbles on the ground.

"Odd," Norik muttered as he removed the axe from the stone. He peered at the small hole, seeing nothing but the faint glint of silver. He shrugged, raising the axe again.

_Thunk!_

Again, the deep rumble shook the axe in the dwarf's hands. Was Aulë unpleased with his children's wealth? Nothing but the winking metal responded. Gimfil would be disappointed if Norik failed to bring back even a small chunk of the Mithril- which even the size of his little finger could be worth more than a King's armor.

The dwarf continued to dig, the thunder having subsided. Suddenly, the hole the dwarf had been digging expanded rapidly, chunks of stone falling in. A bright fiery light bathed over the dwarf, warmth kept hidden for untold years rolling over him like a soft, heavy blanket.

Norik stared in wonder at the discovered tunnel. A river of molten rock and Mithril raced through the earth, curving around an island of unyielding rock. The stone was that of a kind unfamiliar to Norik. He tried to identify it, peering into the bright channel, sweat rolling down into his rusty-red beard.

The rock was a dark brown, closer to black than anything. Several deep cracks ran through the entirety of the stone, though they avoided- horns?

"What in the name of Mahal?" the dwarf muttered.

As he wondered, two flame-orange pits appeared on the stone, almost as though they were eyes opening. The rock- or creature- rose from the molten river, its body glowing red. Wings devoid of skin unfurled, thick shadows rolling from the beast's body to fill the gaps.

It opened its fanged maw, its roar as great and terrible as grinding rocks and roaring flames. Fire crawled from its legs and spread quickly across its body as the monstrosity flexed its sinuous arms.

It turned to the hole bore through the stone, and to the dwarf staring in dread.

The Demon of Might reached to its waist, pulling from the flames that smoldered at its side a long line of fire. Norik watched in horror, helpless, as the Balrog drew the whip back. His screams were lost in the thunder of molten rock as the demon snatched him with the whip, dragging him into its lair.

Its tomb no more.


	2. The Choice

The Mine Overseer, Hûri, sat in the Great Hall at the end of the day. The Hall was filled with miners, all enjoying hearty meals and talking boisterously. Hûri held a mug of ale as though it was his best friend, relaxing after a long day of mining. The only miner to have not reported any Mithril findings was Norik. In fact, no one had heard from the Junior Miner in nearly three hours.

"Overseer," a dwarf with a dark brown beard said as he sat across from the elder dwarf, "I have heard word that a fire has broken out in the lower mines. None know the cause, yet it continues to spread."

Hûri set his mug down with a resounding _'clack!' _as he looked to the dwarf. "Blast it!" he shouted, silencing the Hall, "Have you not called for a fire brigade? Did the thought even occur? If a fire were to burn the supports, this whole section could come toppling down!"

The dwarf humbly nodded. "Yes, Overseer, we called for them. They were claimed in the flames; all hundred of them."

The old dwarf sat stunned. One hundred miners dead. "I will see to this myself," he said after a moment, "Alert the Thanes, and assemble a second group of one-hundred dwarves. We will fight this fire- however it came to be."

The Overseer walked briskly from the Great Hall with the messenger dwarf. When they reached the village Square they split paths. Hûri then broke into a run, heading to the newly opened mining quarry.

Flames caused the structures below to glow a haunting mixture of oranges and yellows. "By Mahal's forge," he whispered. The flames caused the stone and supporting structures to creak and roar in protest, signifying that they were close to collapsing.

This would greatly worry the Thanes, and perhaps mean Hûri's job. Louder than the flames, the steady footfalls of a hundred dwarves resounded off the stone walls. "Hûri!" a dwarf shouted as they thundered closer.

He was Igli, a warrior. "Overseer," he panted, the air hard to breath from the smoke, "We've heard that there is something down there, something alive."

"What could possibly live in such an inferno?" Hûri wondered aloud.

"I know not, Overseer, but it has filled our strongest warriors with fear. It is an unnatural thing, they say, one that is made of dark magic and devilry."

Hûri thought long and hard, looking to Igli. "Take your swiftest runner and send him to the archives. There he will meet with Olöin, the Records Keeper. Tell him to bring a tome back; the Tales of Old. There we might glean some knowledge of this monster."

The warrior nodded and relayed the message. His runner took off, leaving the large group of dwarves to wonder in silent anger at the cinders far below. The roaring- a terrible noise of grinding rocks- continued as they waited.

Hûri thanked the Smith that the beast didn't challenge them while they waited. After time that seemed hours, the runner returned, gasping for air. He delivered the tome to Hûri, who sat and opened the ancient text.

He searched for several moments, contemplating silently as he scoured over the pages. After a while, he shut the tome, a graven look on his face.

"It is as we have feared; devilry and dark magics. A Balrog of Morgoth has been loosed throughout these hallowed halls, for reasons I know not why. Now a choice presents itself to us," the elder dwarf said somberly, "Do we defend our home against a force we cannot defeat? Or do we flee, leaving Moria in ruin. This is not an easy choice.

"For untold centuries these mines have stood. Neither man, elf, nor orc could take them from us. The Bridge of Khazad-dûm has thwarted hundreds of foes, and would surely thwart this monstrosity. The choice is ours to make, and we need to make it fast."


End file.
